On Paper
by Oneturtledove
Summary: The permanence of the pen.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: On a scale of one to ten, I wish they were mine at about 3,000.

A/N: We always wonder about the behind the scenes of Mulder and Scully's lives. Thinking about that, coupled with my friend misquoting and saying "I want that on paper!" instead of "I want that in writing!" I came up with this little idea. The chapters are going to be short and letters only. I tried to kind of explain it without explaining it. Eh. Enjoy.

* * *

_Mulder,_

_In your last letter you asked why we do this never spoken of aloud letter writing. Why we can't just talk like two normal people. I don't have an answer for this. I've thought about it a lot, and the only things I can come up with are quite psychological in nature, which (no offense) makes me kind of uncomfortable, because there is no way to prove it. I hate ambiguity._

_Maybe we write these letters because by some kind of silent, mutual agreement (which is our modus operandi anyway) we have decided to keep these written words on paper, never to be spoken aloud, because it's safer that way. Anything we say can stay on paper, and we never have to discuss it. There are no consequences, even though these words are more permanent than the spoken ones. _

_But maybe that's it. Maybe there are so many lies spoken around us, that having something written down makes it pure, less able to be tainted by environment. It's protecting our words I suppose._

_Or maybe we just enjoy resurrecting the dead art of letter writing._

_I suppose that it doesn't really matter though, does it? I don't know if you were looking for an answer to that question, or if you had run out of things to say, or if it was just a passing comment. Either way, there's my answer._

_And because I can't think of a segue…_

_Sometimes you make me really mad, Mulder. I don't mean to upset you by saying that, and maybe I shouldn't have started that way. Great. Now I'm trying to backtrack. Anyway, what I mean to illustrate when I say you make me mad sometimes is that I care what you think, and I want your support and approval. So when you don't fully listen to me, or don't try to understand, it bothers me more than it would if it was someone else. Does that even make sense? Here I am trying to edit again. Against the unspoken rules._

_Unwritten._

_Whatever._

_But you know what else? More often than not, you make me happy. I can have a day like I had today, one that leaves me with the blahs or something even worse. I can't sleep, I don't want to eat, and I just feel blah. Then I come home and find a message from you on my answering machine. You're updating me on paperwork, but it makes me feel better. And the best part is that you don't even know you're doing it. That's just how you are and who you are and I'm glad that you resist change in that department. _

_I think that's all I have to say for now. Goodnight._

_Scully_


	2. Chapter 2

_Scully,_

_I guess there are a lot of things that we do that just happen. They have no real beginning, and no real reason. We just fall into these rhythms sometimes. I've never had that kind of friendship with anyone else. We've become such a part of each other's lives, it's almost like I cease to function without you. I only think things halfway through because I rely on you for the other half. I never thought that kind of relationship would be healthy, that codependency. Maybe it's not, but I wouldn't change it. Not for anything._

_As connected as we are, I didn't realize how much stock you put in my opinion. It hurts me to know that I've hurt you, especially when I didn't know it. I never want to hurt you. I think you know that, and I think that's why you put up with it sometimes. I think you know how much I love you and that I wouldn't hurt you. That's the only way you could possibly forgive me for some of the things I have done in the past. I'm glad you have._

_I wish you would tell me these things though. Let me know when I do these things that hurt you. Grab my face and shout at me when I'm not listening. Keep talking when I don't understand. Know that you can yell and cry and do whatever it takes to get me hear you, and I'm never going to hold that against you. Those things will hurt and be uncomfortable in the moment, but they will only make us stronger in the end._

_You give me strength to go on, Scully. You encourage me and love me without even knowing you're doing it. You make me happy, you force me to keep fighting. Thank you for all that. _

_Can I say that I love you out loud? Or do I have to resort to writing it? Does it bother you that we never utter those words? No matter how important they are, and how much we mean them, we can't say it out loud. Why is that? We both know it. We both feel it. But why can't we say it? Why have we made that some kind of rule? I don't know._

_Goodnight, Scully. I love you._

_Mulder_


End file.
